


Bloody Knuckles

by lonesomelikeasong



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Dancing, M/M, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 11:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonesomelikeasong/pseuds/lonesomelikeasong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We had each other, at least for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloody Knuckles

I still think about dancing with you.

Sure, I didn't know you long, not in this body. We were together though, and that's what mattered. You always knew me as the scrapper, the one who'd only let go of a friend long enough to throw myself at the person licking a fight. Well, that much hasn't changed. Bloody knuckles never heal when they're in your mind instead of your hands. I've just learned when to stay quiet.

You were always so smooth. You knew what to say to girls that smiled at you, or to men who looked at you funny, or to me when I got riled up. No one ever said a word to you that you couldn't smooth over with that cocky smile. Sure, you'd step in and get rough when I needed you, but what are friends for? Your knuckles stayed cleaner than mine will ever be. I guess they probably aren't anymore.

When I think about all the years you had and I didn't, I want to die. I want to die and start over with you so that I get you for all my years and you don't hurt for one more second. Every moment that I was lost must have been even longer for you. I want to take you in my arms and make up for each second. I want to tell you about all the things I know now, and I want to know that when you're with me you won't have to leave. We could stay like that forever, curled together like the last night.

The last night. The last night before you left, we got drunk. My body never could hold liquor before I became what I am, but it never stopped me from trying to drink you under the table. Bloody knuckles in my mind even then.

Your neighbor kept yelling at us, telling us to shut the hell up and get sober. We didn't care. We were so young, and God willing we were going to fight for our country. It was whiskey or nothing as we kept knocking back. I remember looking over at you and watching you drink straight from the bottle, still laughing about the apartment next door. I remember you passing the bottle to me, your eyes hazy and smiling and your hand slipping to touch mine for just one moment as you said "All yours."

That touch burned me for longer than I'd like to say.

The moon was still climbing the sky when we ran out of alcohol. Moderation didn't suit either of us in those days. Your shirt was untucked when you stumbled over to me and pulled me to my feet. "I'm on fire. I gotta move or somethin'." You turned on some music, and God I wish I could remember the song.

At first you walked around the apartment alone, nodding your head to the slow beat like a stalking jungle cat. I was drunker than you of course, so when you brushed by me I started to fall. You caught me like it was what we were born to do, like we had lived our lives to this point just waiting. We sank into each other, hands twisted tight vises together. We swayed together like two fools in love, drunk on ideas and cheap whiskey from the store down the street.

Even when the song ended we stood there, holding on like lifelines in the dark. I remember your skin being smooth on mine.

It got hazy after that. I know you never kissed me, but I watched the want burn in your eyes when I could raise my head and look up into them. I don't remember much else. That's the part that matters anyway.

I just get bits and pieces: your forehead pressed against mine, the smell of your breath laced with alcohol, that ever-present heat between your body and mine. It could've been hours for all I know, or years.

Maybe that night was our gift. Maybe the world knew what was about to happen to those young men and decided to give them just a sliver of the time it was about to take away.

I don't know why, but I woke up once during the night. We were lying together on the floor, as close as we were when we danced. You were breathing deep, totally oblivious to the world. I think I told you I loved you then. I was lost to sleep soon after. All I know is that at some point, one of us let go.

We woke the next morning on opposite sides of the floor and the sun streamed in to burn our eyes.

I miss you. I hope you come back to me some day, to my apartment in the city. I've got music here, too. I'd like to dance with you again, if only once more.

I've got these bloody knuckles after all.


End file.
